


Regretful Wedding

by jlillymoon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidents, Death, Drunk Driving, F/M, M/M, Regrets, Smoking, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2443787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlillymoon/pseuds/jlillymoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For ink and soul exchangelock what if...</p><p>What if John knew how much Sherlock loved him at the wedding to Mary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. John and Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkandsoul](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=inkandsoul).



> This is my pitch hit for Ink and Soul for exchangelock What if....  
> I hope you like it and I enjoyed writing it for you.  
> Thanks to Demonicsymphony for making sure my spelling and things weren't too embarrassing.

John paced in front of the window of 221B Baker Street looking at his watch for the millionth time and sighing. She was late… again. Being late wasn’t unusual for her, but he didn’t want to wait for the conversation he wanted to have and with his daughter, but at the same time he wanted to wait forever.

Olive bolted up the stairs, flinging her coat onto the rack on her way into the sitting room. She didn’t do anything by half and was a bit of a tornado at her quietest times. She kissed her father on the cheek and flopped onto the sofa.

“Olive.” John said with a resigned sigh.

“Oh, Daddy. I know I’m late. But the cake tasting ran later than expected and Peter had to get back to his office. So, I took the tube.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her slender arms around them as she answered. Her blonde hair hung around her face in a sheet and her smile reached her light blue eyes. “But I’m here now. So, what did you want to talk about?”

John cleared his throat nervously and sat down on the sofa next to her. 

“Do you love Peter?” John asked hesitantly. He knew that she did, but it was the way he had rehearsed his conversation with Olive in his head.

“You know I do, Dad. What’s this about? Did Uncle Mycroft do something I should be concerned about?” Olive had to put a ban on her honorary uncle doing background checks on all of her boyfriends for all of her twenty five years. She was anxious that there might be something he found that she really didn’t want to know about.

“No. Mycroft doesn’t know why you are here. And it’s not really his concern.” John said soothingly. “But it’s good that you love Peter. He’s a good bloke.”

“Dad, you are making me nervous. What’s going on? And where is Father?” she asked looking around the flat for signs of an accident or her father.

“Sherlock is out. I need to tell you a story. We thought it would be better if I told you by myself.” 

“A story about what?” Olive asked, her head tilting to the side.

“About love. About regret and about….” John took a pause and only breathed out the last words. “Your mother.”

“What about my mother? And what regrets?” Olive was more than intrigued and her face was alight with the promise of a mystery. Her mother was a taboo subject that was not brought up in the flat, ever. She knew that there was more to the story but she was content with her life as it was. She figured if she asked the right questions, Aunt Molly, Uncle Greg, or Uncle Mycroft might have told her the truth however she really didn’t care. Her two fathers were more than she could ever want and she didn’t lack for love.

“Well,” John started “I need to ask you a few more questions. What do you know about your father’s hiatus and what happened after he came back?”

“I only know what you and Father have told me. He faked his death to save your life and you two fought off Moriarty, then got married.” Olive recited from memory. It was an old bedtime story that Sherlock had spun for her when she was little.

“Good.” John said. “Fine. But there is a bit more to the story.”

“There always is.” Olive muttered. John twisted his lips at her and she smiled at him. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“So, what does all this have to do with Peter and my wedding?” Olive asked. “I only ask because you asked if I love Peter.”

“Just like your father.” John mused.

“Really, Dad. I’m like both of you.”

“Yes, yes.” John dismissed the old argument. “So, are you ready for this or not?”

“Yes. Please.”

John settled into the sofa a bit more and started with his tale.

“Your father and I started out as flatmates,only flatmates, and I got drawn into his life. We were solving crimes the day after I met him. I was working at the clinic from time to time, but basically I was working with Sherlock. Moriarty was a real threat and Sherlock jumped off of the roof at Bart’s after Moriarty ‘killed’ himself in order to save mine, Uncle Greg’s and Nana Hudson’s lives.”

“I knew there was something about why neither of you like heights.” Olive muttered.

“Yes. You are so smart. Now shut it and let me tell my story.” Olive nodded her head with a smile as John continued. “So, Sherlock came back after two years of being away. He had been trying to finish off Moriarty once and for all. But I didn’t know he was alive.”

Olive sucked in a breath. “I bet you were quite….” Olive waved her hand.. “So, he came back.”

“Quite right. I was upset. I tackled him, I split his lip and gave him that scar on it and nearly broke his nose.” Olive let out a low whistle. She was more than a little shocked at the thought of her fathers physically having it out with each other or that Sherlock let John have the upper hand. They were far from physically the same, but Sherlock was no shrinking violet.

“So, the thing is that I wasn’t alone while Sherlock was gone. I met someone. The night Sherlock came back into my life, I was in the middle of asking her to marry me.”

“No shit.” Olive said, immediately finding her hand flying to her mouth. “Sorry.” she said through her fingers.

“It’s fine. You are my daughter after all.”

John took a drink of his scotch. He swallowed slowly, letting the burn in his throat center himself again to be able to talk again. 

“So, Sherlock and I eventually picked up where we left off, with my fiancé involved to a degree. Solved a few cases, restarted our friendship. But things took an interesting turn when Sherlock and I were working late one night about a week before the wedding.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I’m getting to that.” John said with a laugh. He sobered and took a deep breath. “I won’t go into details, but that night… that night was the night my life changed forever.” John sat back for a moment and thought to the conversation that he and Sherlock had.

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Sherlock was sitting in his chair, the strain of the last three nights of sleeplessness starting to show on his face in the form of purple bruises under his ever changing eyes. His face, usually clean shaven was shaded with a slightly auburn colored stubble and John found himself staring at his attractive friend with less than pure thoughts in his head. He was seated in his own chair across from Sherlock and he shook his head in an attempt to refocus on the case at hand. Sherlock suddenly looked up at John and narrowed his eyes.

“What?” John asked after a moment.

“Hmm.” Sherlock answered in his way. John chewed on the inside of his cheek, sure that Sherlock was able to read his mind at times, no matter how much he said he couldn’t.

“Really, Sherlock, What?”

“The way you are looking at me.”

“What about it?”

“You are thinking of something that’s not what you usually think of when you look at me.”

“You are so tired you aren’t making sense. Maybe you should kip on the sofa for a bit.” John said, trying in earnest to change the subject.

“No. I’m no more tired than usual. And I’m not getting anywhere with the case.” Sherlock said with a huff, flopping back into his chair.

“Why not?”

“I’m distracted.”

“By what?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“John, you are getting married next week. Things will be different and I can’t stop thinking about this fact.” 

“Nothing is going to change.” John answered automatically. It had been a discussion he and Sherlock had before, several times in fact. “I’ve told you that.”

“But you can’t keep lying to me or yourself.” Sherlock countered, for the first time the conversation was taking a different turn. 

“I’m not lying. Nothing will change.”

“But everything already has. I already lost my chance.” Sherlock said. His jaw twitched a bit as he realized that he spoke more than he intended.

“Lost your chance at what exactly?” John asked, his eyebrows raising towards his hairline. Sherlock’s lips were pressed into a thin line. He shrugged a bit and leaned forward again.

“You. I have lost you.”

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” John offered. Sherlock’s hand landed on his knee and Sherlock shook his black curls at John.

“You misunderstand, John. I lost you to her. I lost the chance I had to tell you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” John asked, confusion laced in his voice.

“Yes John.”

“How… what are you getting on about?” 

Sherlock sighed. “I care about you.”

“I care about you too. You’re my best mate.”

“No, again, you misunderstand. I… care about you.” 

John let the words wash over him as his eyes widened a bit in both surprise and understanding.

 

***************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

“That was the night your father told me for the first time that he loved me.” John continued with his story. Olive smiled. She knew that neither of her fathers were good at expressing their emotions for each other, but their love was undeniable. Words like “git” and “idiot” replaced the usual pet names couples called each other. She nodded her head and John continued. “But I was committed to my fiancé and it was a week before the wedding. I couldn’t call it off. Sherlock was my best man. He stood next to me through the whole thing and helped plan it. But as I recited my vows, I found that it wasn’t the woman I loved across from me that I was thinking of, but it was Sherlock. The one person I truly was in love with.”

“You loved her?” Olive asked curiously.

“I did. I really did.” John nodded as he confirmed it. “But the difference was I wasn’t in love with her. Never was. At first she was something to fill the hole that Sherlock had left, but after sometime, it seemed that getting married, becoming a doctor in the suburbs was the logical course of action. So, that’s what I did. And then Sherlock showed up, told me he loved me and well, I was a wreck. My mind was full of Sherlock at my own wedding. Not my wife. My best friend. And sometime, you should ask Uncle Greg or Aunt Molly about the best man speech he gave. If it had been the speech he made at our wedding it would have been perfect, but he gave it at the wrong wedding.”

“What made it so bad?” Olive asked, cringing a bit. She knew that Sherlock wasn’t the best at public speaking and John often handled that part of their working life.

“It wasn’t a bad speech. But after his revelation to me, every word was a declaration of his love for me. And I sat there thinking about how long I could stay married to the woman sitting next to me before I left her or cheated on her or something. I was trying to decide if six months was enough or not. And how to leave her without hurting her too badly. I was inwardly cringing that I would have to sleep in the bed with my wife that night and not Sherlock. I was wondering how much more I needed to drink before I was good and pissed and could just pass out. Things no one should be thinking about during their wedding.”

“Oh Daddy.” 

Olive’s face was said and full of the anguish John had felt at the time. He patted her hand a bit.

“There is no need for pity. Because now comes the best part of my marriage.” He smiled. “We stayed married for one year exactly. It’s not important why we divorced in the end. Yes, before you ask your father was involved with it, but not in the way you think. Because after our first dance, things were different. Your father in his wonderful way, deduced that my new wife was pregnant. With you.” Olive’s mouth formed a perfect o.

“So, I stayed because of you. But when you were just a few months old my marriage was over.”

“Is she… did she…” Olive blew out a breath and her fringe shifted on her forehead.

“She’s dead now. Mycroft told me she died shortly after you turned ten.” John answered her question. “But let’s just say she wasn’t really a good woman in the end. Your father and I started to raise you here at Baker Street the day I signed the divorce papers.”

“So, you brought me here to tell me this story. But I don’t understand why.” Olive said after a few minutes of digesting what John told her. John smiled.

“I have thought about my wedding, my first wedding for a long time. About what I would have done differently. If other things that happened after that night would have gone differently if I had simply not shown up at the church. If I had followed my heart instead of my head. And after talking with your father, I decided that the only way that I could come to some sort of…. peace with it all was to tell you. To assure myself that you understood that where I felt that I made a mistake, I didn’t get the worst deal in any way. I did end up with your father. The man that I love more than anything. And I ended up with you. My wonderful daughter. The best part of that relationship.”

Olive leaned near her father and laid a kiss upon his cheek. “I love you.” she said.

“And I love you too.” John said, pulling his and Mary’s daughter into his arms.

“Did you really stand in a church full of friends and family and think about Father instead of your wife?” Olive asked as she settled into a cuddle with John.

“I did. The church wasn’t bad. It was the dancing that killed me. And your father solved three cases during his speech. It was epic.”

“Three?”

“Yep.” the voice in the doorway said, popping the p in his posh way. John and Olive both turned their blond heads to see Sherlock standing just inside the room and leaning on the doorway. He smiled at them both and came to sit on the opposite side of Olive. She leaned into him and he wrapped his arm over her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. She nuzzled his chin with her head like she had when she was child and he planted a kiss on her crown.

“Wow.” she said. “Three?”

“Yes. It was quite the speech.” Sherlock said. He reached behind his daughter and lay his hand on John’s shoulder. “But even as I was deducing the cases, I only had eyes for John. And he is as handsome today as he was then.”

John felt the blush rise in his cheeks and blossom across his face. “Shut it.”

“Seriously, guys, Dad you got married because you felt obligated to follow through on a proposal to a woman you loved but weren’t in love with… “ John nodded his head at his daughter’s fair summarization of his story when she drew a breath and turned towards Sherlock “And you, you arse, chose a moment a week before his wedding to tell him that you loved him instead of hundred of thousands of moments before.” Sherlock ducked his head and nodded at his daughter. She was the only person besides John who could call him out on his errors. “You two are the most fucked up people I know.”

“But I didn’t tell you this story for you to come away with that assumption.” John tried to explain.

“No, Dad. I got it. Listen to both your head and your heart. Don’t do anything I might regret. Live in the moment and in love. But I also got that the two of you are so made for each other it’s scary.”

“Her observation is as astute as ever, John.” Sherlock offered squeezing his husband’s shoulder..

“Shut it you. She’s telling you how much of a git you are too.” John said with a smile.

“Now, if story time is over, I want to hear some more about your real wedding. It’s not something you ever talk about.” Olive asked, settling back onto the sofa, snuggly encased between the two men who raised and loved her. 

Sherlock snuck a look over her head at his husband. “I assure you, John’s head was still filled with ideas about me that day.”

“But I was supposed to be thinking about you.” John added.

Olive smiled and pulled out her phone to take a picture of her parents. One that she would cherish every time she looked at it. A family portrait from the day she was reminded how loyal her dad was and how besotted her father was. Just how much they loved each other.


	2. Molly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone messaged me about continuing this fic. And while I orginally had no intentions, of doing so, a nugget of something came into my brain and well... it festered until it was time to move it on.   
> So... I have written out a handful of extras. More chapters. Each character and their regrets surrounding a wedding.
> 
> So we start with Molly. 
> 
> And all these happen years after the fall and years after John and Sherlock get married.

Molly looked down at her electric blue Converse trainers. She wasn’t sure how she managed to get talked into buying them by a seven year old, but here she was, wearing them. She didn’t regret it, really. They were her “something blue”.  It was just… something out of character for her and out of the ordinary in general. Her feet seemed so small to her at that moment. But she knew they were average. That.. she was average. Her mother told her that often enough. But Molly didn’t feel average at that moment. She felt something… akin to beautiful. But brides often were thought of as beautiful.

Molly looked to her left and smiled as Sherlock moved towards her, across the way. He smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. “Molly. You look lovely.” he said, his voice soft and honest. Molly’s cheeks heated with a faint blush and she smiled as she ducked her eyes.

“Thank you. Still not sure about the shoes though.”  she said, lifting up the hem of her dress to show Sherlock. He chuckled a little.

“Olive, right?”

“Yes.” Molly said with a roll of her eyes and a smile. “She’s quite persistent and so very much like John when it comes to things like that.” Sherlock smiled and nodded his head.

“That she is.” he drawled. Molly stifled a giggle. “So…” he reached his hand into his pocket and produced an illicit pack of cigarettes. He raised his eyebrows at her and she nodded. The pair slipped out the side door and leaned against the old stone of the church, lighting up.

“John is going to have my head on a platter…” Molly said taking a long drag.

“No. He’ll have mine.” Sherlock countered. “But no matter. I’m sure he’s not having a quiet moment. Olive was practically bouncing off of the walls of the flat this morning and your fiancee… he looked quite… um….”

“Nervous?” Molly asked. Sherlock nodded.

The pair smoked in silence for a while before Sherlock spoke up.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

“Regret what?”

“Waiting until… now to get married?” 

Molly looked up at the taller man she had once thought she was in love with and tilted her head to the side. “No. I regret certain things about the way it happened, sure. But the time itself… no.” Sherlock said nothing, just watched her, waiting for more data. “I regret that I let Jim get close. I regret that I wasted so much time pining for you when you were clearly in love with John. I regret accepting Tom’s offer. That’s the one that put me off for a long time.” she said with a sigh. “But honestly… I never saw what was right there in front of me for so long, Sherlock. I… I just finally worked up the nerve to open myself back up again and here we are.”

“Yes. Here we are.” Sherlock said. He looked at Molly and gave her another one of his rare genuine smiles. “I’m pleased you asked me to give you over.”

“I thought it was rather fitting. You, John… Olive… you’ve always been there for me. Even when I… I wasn’t there for you.” she said. Sherlock and Molly’s falling out happened right after Mary left and Molly hated herself for a long time. She hated that she couldn’t see past her own stupid jealousy and she surely regretted her choices. “But… the past is over and I have nothing more to do than move on. To leave the regrets behind and marry the man I love.”

Sherlock stubbed out his cigarette and pulled Molly into a gently hug. “Molly Hooper. You are an amazing woman. And he’s very very lucky that you are marrying him.”

“I know.” Molly said with a laugh. “Thank you Sherlock.” she said, placing a small kiss on his cheek. He offered out his arm and she took it. “Let’s get me married then, yes?”

“Greg is very lucky indeed.” Sherlock stated, heading them both into the church.


	3. Mrs. Hudson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson talks about regrets she has from her own life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes... if you've been youtubing again!...

Martha Anne Thomas Hudson was a force to be reckoned with at the best of times, but when she was in a mood… the world had better watch out. Mrs. Hudson was nothing short of lethal. “Can you imagine John! Closing the

senior center because of a cache of weapons from the war found in the basement? What for? It’s not like we aren’t already on our way to death’s door step!” she carried on as she shifted her bags on her lap. “And expecting us to go clear across town to Hempstead’s Center for Knitting group. The very idea!” Mrs. Hudson glared out the cab’s windows. “I should make Sherlock talk to Mycroft about this.” 

John’s attention snapped up at that comment. Mrs. Hudson made no bones about the fact she detested Mycroft Holmes. And the very idea of having him deal with this tiny problem… John knew that it was a big deal. 

“I’ll talk to Greg. See if he can do something about it.” John mentioned. Mrs. Hudson seemed satisfied with that and nodded her head as she began to glare out the window again.

John sighed as the cab stopped and helped Mrs. Hudson with her bags. It really was out of his way, but when she asked to share a cab with him on his way to meet Sherlock for lunch, he couldn’t say no. 

“Well then dear… have a lovely time at lunch with Sherlock.” she said, waving her hand at John. John nodded with a smile and headed off to his own adventure.

Mrs. Hudson picked up her bags and headed into the center, looking for the other ladies from her group. The room they were assigned was larger and more comfortable than the one they had been used to using, but Mrs. Hudson only continued to bristle at the inconvenience that the change had caused her. She found an empty armchair and sat in it, pulling off her over coat and sighing before taking out her newest project, a new jumper set for Olive and John to match each other. She was three rows in when a chipper voice came over and said, “Hello!”

Mrs. Hudson looked up and nodded quickly before heading back to her work. 

“I’m Marge. I’m one of the welcoming members here. You must be from Westminster, right?”

“Yes. I am. Thank you very much.” Mrs. Hudson said, slightly annoyed at the interruption.

“ That’s lovely then.” Marge sat down next to Mrs. Hudson and watched her knit for a while. “It’s a lovely pattern.”

“Thanks.” Mrs. Hudson said. “It’s for my… well my granddaughter and her father.”

“Oh. I’m sure they will love it.” 

Mrs. Hudson chuckled to herself and looked up at the other woman. She narrowed her eyes a little. “You look familiar. What did you say your name was?”

“Marge. Margaret.” Marge looked at Mrs. Hudson. “I didn’t catch yours.”

“Might be because I didn’t give it.” She snapped back. She took a moment and calmed herself. “Martha.”

“Martha.” Marge repeated. “My best friend when I was younger was named Martha.”

“And mine was….” Mrs. Hudson looked up. “Margaret. Margaret Harris.”

“Martha Thomas.” Both women smiled at each other. 

“You know… I was thinking about you recently.”

“Oh?” Marge answered. “And why was that?”

“A friend of mine got married. I was thinking about the fact you left my wedding early.” Mrs. Hudson gave her a small smile.

“I left early.” Marge said, softly. “I… I hated being there. I was your friend and you… you didn’t see what a monster he was.”

“I know that now.” Mrs. Hudson said equally as quiet. “But he’s dead… and I don’t regret one thing. Well… maybe one thing.”

“What’s that?” Marge asked, curious.

“I regret the exoctic dancing.”

“What?!” Marge asked, her laughter filling the room. A few blue heads turned their way and Mrs. Hudson joined in her laughter. “God, Martha… you have to tell me everything.”

Mrs. Hudson and her best friend spent the rest of the afternoon catching up. Talking about their lives. Their hopes and their dreams. Mrs. Hudson smiled at her friend. “I regret that we lost touch Margie.”

“I did too. But then again… maybe this was a sign. For us to happen to meet again.” Marge shook her head. “I hate weddings you know.”

“Oh. But they are fun!” Mrs. Hudson said. She sighed. “Well… really. Who leaves a wedding early?”

“Someone who regretted not telling her best friend earlier that the man she was marrying was… well…. A dick.” Marge said simply. 

“He was a dick.” Mrs. Hudson agreed. A comfortable silence fell between them. Mrs. Hudson looked around the room and realized that it was lit differently. The sun had gone down and the lights in the room were artificial. They were the only ones left in their group and a few younger people had started filling the space, getting ready for their yoga class.

“We should go.” Marge said after a bit.

“We should. But… let’s not lose touch again.” Mrs. Hudson offered. Marge nodded in agreement. She held out a slip of paper where she had written her number and Mrs. Hudson tucked it into her sleeve. She gathered her things and gave Marge a tight hug goodbye.

Sherlock was coming out as Mrs. Hudson was coming in. She smiled and patted his arm. 

“How terrible was it?” Sherlock asked as he held the door open for her. 

“It… it wasn’t too bad.” Mrs. Hudson answered as she walked by. Sherlock nodded and smiled to himself. He only regretted that he hadn’t had the service men move the weapons there sooner. Then Mrs. Hudson and Margaret could have found each other long ago.


	4. Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft does indeed have regrets too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard to write but it came the easiest. 
> 
> You have been warned. You might want to pause and get some tissues.

Mycroft had taught his younger brother that caring was not an advantage long before he was done with school. Sentiment wasn’t helpful in the real world. And Mycroft had the data to prove it. But one single night of the year… Mycroft would indulge. The only person in his office that knew this was the one night he was never to be disturbed, was Anthea. She was something of a bulldog when it came to the need for him to be alone and he trusted her with his secret.

 

Mycroft moved from his office chair at the moment the first ringing of his hall clock struck the hour of six. He closed his laptop, turned off his phone and moved to his kitchen. The house was too large for one person, but he had bought it when he was younger. It wasn’t the place that he had wanted to be, but it hadn’t been his choice in the end. It had been the choice of… well… he wasn’t ready to think about that yet. He had a routine and he was going to stick by it.

 

Mycroft managed to eat his meager dinner. A lone turkey sandwich and a glass of milk. It was far from the normal fare he indulged in on a rare night at home, but traditions must be upheld. He washed up his plate and glass, heading to his room to finish his routine. He stripped off his clothing and sat down on his bed, watching the clock until it struck 18:45. He moved then to the bathroom where he had begun to fill his large tub. He sank into the water and picked up the book he had left there that morning. It was the same book that he had been reading the night…

Mycroft worked through the book until he had come to the same point in the chapter when his world came crashing down around him. 

Mycroft emptied the tub and pulled on his dressing gown. The only other thing he wore was the golden band on his right hand. He had put it there years earlier and vowed never to take it off again until he could return it to it’s rightful owner. But that was never going to happen in his lifetime. 

 

_ Myc had noticed her first. Or at least she let him think he had. He was finishing up his last year at Oxford. It was the last year for her as well, but she had years of school left to finish. Medical school was often a chore, but it was a burden that she was happy to take on. There was nothing short of death that was going to keep her from earning her placement as a doctor. But it wasn’t her dedication to her chosen field or her fierce intelligence that Mycroft noticed first. It was the honey colored hair and the eyes the same green as spring grass. And Mycroft found that she was all he could ever want to look at again. _

_ Their relationship had been slow to start, but quickly gaining speed once they reached their winter holidays. By the time they reached graduation… Mycroft knew there would never be another for him. _

_ Beatrix Harrison-Holmes. Dr. Beatrix Harrison-Holmes she would correct Mycroft when she was being playful. Her eyes never lost their sharp edge and her hair still hung down her back like a waterfall. Mycroft was five years married and never regretted it one moment. His career was doing well. Hers was just beginning. He bought her the house as a graduation gift. A proper doctor deserves a proper house, he cooed at her. She smiled and kissed him deeply.  _

 

Mycroft moved to the back terrace of the house, sitting down to light a cigarette. He carried a glass of fine aged brandy and sipped it slowly as he smoked.

“Do you regret it?” the deep voice came from the shadows. “Never having the man who did this to you killed?” Sherlock moved into the light and Mycroft shook his head. 

“No. No he was drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing. It wasn’t his fault.” Mycroft said quietly. This was the night that Mycroft was his most unguarded. He was riddled with sentiment and heartbreak. “I don’t regret anything other than the fact it should have been me and not her.”

Sherlock had come to know more about his brother as a man on these nights. The last ten years flying by in no time. It wasn’t information that he had ever shared with John or Olive. His own husband and daughter didn’t need to know the sorrow that burrowed deep under Mycroft’s icy exterior.

“You know that’s a fool’s errand, Myc.” Sherlock said as he sat down and lit his own cigarette. “But one I rather now understand.”

“I thought as much.” Mycroft answered. “Your own marriage and love for John… I’m sorry, Lock.”

“Don’t be. You… you were so hurt. Broken by what happened to her, that you thought it was the only thing you could do to protect me. Especially after…” Sherlock swallowed the rest of his words. They both knew what had happened in his own past and it wasn’t worth talking about further.

“Yes… well… Trixie would have my hide if she knew what I had become. Or what I… I allowed you to become.” he said sadly.  Sherlock laughed. 

“She was one of the few people I could see put you in your place with just a look. Better than Mummy.”

“Right. But Mummy was never holding the idea of withholding sex over me to get me to fall into line.” Mycroft said with a fond, yet sad smile. He crushed out his cigarette and toyed with the ring he wore. “I’ve never taken it off. Just… promise me something, Lock?”

Sherlock looked up at his older brother and nodded quietly. He was worried about his brother. The one night a year that Sherlock was on duty to watch Mycroft instead of the other way around. “Of course. What is it?”

“When I die… you make sure that Olive gets her ring. Please? That you’ll tell her and John all about the beautiful woman that was my Beatrix.”

“Oh… Myc… That’s….” Sherlock found himself at a loss for words. In a rare moment, the Holmes brothers found themselves at their most human. Their most vulnerable. “I’m sorry they will never get to meet her. She would have loved them both.” Sherlock sat back in the chair and sighed. “She would have given both John and I a good thrashing for the time we took…”

“Yes… but time that was used wisely, I would say.” Mycroft offered.

“Oh?” Sherlock looked up at the stars and closed his eyes. “How do you figure that?”

“Without it… you wouldn’t have given me one of the best criminals in the world to put behind bars and you wouldn’t have Olive.” Mycroft smiled softly. He would always admit it when asked. He loved his niece whole heartedly and became very un-Mycroft like in her presence. “She is what makes you… you now Lock.”

“I know.” Sherlock answered. “I’ll go now. Let you be. Just… remember that we do care, Myc.” He paused on his way past his brother, squeezing his shoulder in a moment of brotherly love and compassion. He looked up at the sky once again. “Happy Birthday.” he said before he was gone.

Mycroft waited until he began to chill before returning to the house. He moved through the large rooms, heading up to his bedroom and turning out the lights as he crawled into his bed. He looked over to the space that he hadn’t touched in ten years. The space that once his beloved wife had slept in. “I regret that death took you before your time, my love.” he said, looking at the small framed wedding picture on the far side of the bed. “I regret that you aren’t here with me now. And I regret that my birthday will always be remembered like this. The day my heart turned to stone and I lost my love.” he said as he closed his eyes. A few tears fell down his cheeks and he drifted into a sleep, lulled only by the sleeping pill he put in his brandy. 

 

John listened as Sherlock returned home and smiled at his husband. He never understood why he would leave to see Mycroft on this day, always carrying a bouquet of yellow daisies in his arms. But Anthea… she finally came through. “It’s Mr. Holmes’ birthday. And it’s the day they lost a family member.” she texted John. John nodded at the answer and put his phone away. He just held Sherlock as he sighed into his arms. “I love you.” John said quietly. “And Mycroft needed you. I’m glad you were there for him.”

“As am I. It’s always a concern… that tonight would be a danger night for him.” John looked up at Sherlock’s soft words. 

“Oh… Sherlock….”

“It’s alright John. But I think I should tell you about why. And the fact that I regret not being sober at my brother’s wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“Yes… because tonight… tonight would have been ten years since Mycroft lost his Beatrix. And I nearly ruined their wedding. And… I regret it. Especially since… the night she died….”

 

Mycroft’s mind drifted along the corridors of his house. He heard the soft singing coming from the other room. He pushed open the door, and the morning light came streaming in. Beatrix looked up from where she was folding clothing, smiling at him before turning, her belly large and swollen. She rested a hand on the top and moved slowly towards her husband. “Happy Birthday Daddy.” she said quietly. It was the last good memory of his wife he had… and he didn’t regret it at all.


	5. Mormor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Seb have their own regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mormor... ah... my life. My blood and my boys...

Sebastian Moran didn’t do sentiment. He didn’t do regrets. He didn’t do… fuck. He did every one of those things. He wasn’t doing anyone any favors, kidding himself. But sitting on the top of the tower bridge… the Thames flowing smoothly below him… everything seemed clear.

His fingers ran across the smooth metal of the ring he was holding, the one attached to the end of the chain of his dog tags. He kept it out of sentiment. A reminder that he shouldn’t live the rest of his life with regrets. And now… five years later… he had only one remaining regret he couldn’t do a damn thing about.

He looked down at the people milling around on the bridge deck below him. They were all so small. But in the world without Jim… everything was so small. So small and boring. Seb hadn’t realized how much Jim was like a sun to him. Bringing him nothing but life. And now… he had been gone far too long and Sebastian missed him like he would miss his right arm.

“Damn it Jim….” he said softly to himself. “You had to play that stupid game with the Holmes brothers. Had to… had to ruin our plans… I was going to ask you to marry me.” Seb dropped the ring and it bounced a little against his chest. He lit a cigarette, his last one. It didn’t matter anyway. He didn’t need to buy more if he was going to die. But he was going to do it right. Properly. Jump from the tower bridge. A very large death for someone time and life had forgotten. The man who was nothing without Jim Moriarty by his side.

 

Jim Moriarty was nothing if not through. He worked in the shadows more so than ever. His name wasn’t even a whisper anymore. But he kept tabs on his sniper, right hand man and lover. He knew that he had broken the once strong and fearsome man, but he couldn’t do anything about that. Sentiment wasn’t safe in their world. He couldn’t have told him anything.  Seb would have insisted on coming with and that wouldn’t have been safe. Sebastian would always be Jim’s achilles heel. He had been keeping his own heart locked away, only allowing himself to be emotional and missing Seb when he was alone and safe for the moment. But he still had his ear to the ground. And while he was hiding for the last three weeks in a small fishing village in the north of Scotland, Jim heard the first rumblings. Sebastian Moran was planning something. Something big. And Jim was worried. Seb wasn’t the planning type. But this news… it was reliable.

Jim packed his small bag and headed south. He kept his head down and his sunglasses on. His hair had grown out a little and he wore it looser than he had in the past. He wore more Richard Brook type clothing and no one paid him any mind. He was blending in just right.

Jim strolled through London, heading to his old home. The flat that Sebastian still lived in. But he wasn’t there. He had… he had let the once shining home fray at the edges. Jim ran his hand over the decaying ruins of the life he had left behind and he knew in that moment that he had regretted every choice he had made up until that moment.

 

Seb took the last drag off of the cigarette and tossed the butt down to the murky water below. He listened as he heard the door to the tower open and shut. Someone’s trainers walked across the pebbled surface and Seb shut his eyes.

“It’s useless to try to talk me out of it. I’ve got nothing left. I’ve lost everything and I only regret not doing this sooner.” Seb said to the air around him. He figured they would send some plain clothed officer to talk him down.

“Well… regrets are shite.” Jim said. He voice was off. He hadn’t used his real accent in… well five years. Not since he said the last words to Sherlock on the roof. “I have them too, Tiger.” Seb’s eyes shut and he shook his head. “Great. Now I’m having auditory hallucinations.” 

“Sebastian.”  Jim said. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” he asked, coming closer. Seb shut his eyes tighter and hung his head. 

“I don’t want to see you. You… you left me for five years, you dick. I… I had plans. Things… things I wanted to ask you. But… you had to go and shoot yourself…”

“Not really.” Jim said with an easy shrug. He sat down next to Seb and looked at the man he loved. The man he missed. He leaned closer to Seb and looked him over. The last five years had been hard on him. And Jim instantly regretted it all. He regretted leaving. And now… he hoped that he wouldn’t regret coming. “What are we doing here, Bastian?”

“I don’t know about you, but I was jumping to my death.”

“No you weren’t. You were wallowing.”

“Well… what do you expect Jim? The man I love went and killed himself. The very day I was going to ask him to marry me.”

“Oh?” Jim said. He was a bit surprised. He knew that Seb wanted to get married. And if things had been different, well… But Jim had no idea that Seb had planned to ask him that very day. “I’m sorry.” Jim said quietly.

“Oh lovely. Now I  _ know _ I’m hallucinating. My Jim would never apologize. And never to me.”

“You aren’t Bastian. You are the only one in the world that I would apologize too. And… I am. I love you. I love you so much and I… I’m sorry. I fucked up. I regret it.”

“Well… that’s just lovely.” Seb said squeezing his eyes tight again. He had been watching Jim. And his heart couldn’t decided if it should stop beating or beat faster. Jim looked over and noticed the ring on Seb’s chain. He lifted it up between his fingers and twisted it in the light. “Seb…”

“What? Call me sentimental.” Seb offered. He took the chain off of his neck and removed the ring. He held it out to Jim. “So. Now what?”

“Well... “ Jim said, his voice slightly shaky, but he tried to hide it with a bit of a sing song lilt. Seb glared at him and he cleared his throat. “I can’t stay in London.”

“Oh.” Seb said. He dropped his hands to his lap and Jim picked up the ring from his fingers and slid it on. It was slightly loose, but that would be the weight loss from Jim’s time in hiding. Seb let his dog tags slip from his fingers, but Jim caught them just before they began to fall and put them over his own head. “It’s too late Jim.”

“It’s never too late Seb.”

“It is. I’m done. I… I can’t go on living this way.” 

“Then come with me.” Jim offered.

“Why?”

“Because I love you. Because… because I am sorry. And because I regret it all.” Jim said softly. He shook his head and listened to his words get carried away on the wind. “Please?”

“And if I say no?”

“I walk away. It’s over. But just know… that you are my biggest regret. I… I want to spend the rest of my life with my tiger. My love.”

Seb listened and sat staring up at the sky. He wasn’t sure what he should do. And if he left… he couldn’t be sure that Jim wasn’t going to hurt him again. “Please?” Jim repeated softly. Seb looked up at the man he missed more than anything. 

“I hate you.” 

“I know.” 

“I will regret this.”

“I’m sure.”

“But God… Jim…” Seb said, standing up and taking a step. He looked Jim in the eyes. “I love you so much… but… it’s time I left this life.” he said before taking another step and indeed leaving the life he had been leading until that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now... please realize that I didn't beta a single one of these. I just wrote them and edited them quick. I hope you enjoy them! Comments please if you wish.
> 
> And curious. Which way do you think Sebastian stepped?


End file.
